


On Being Brilliant

by starfishies



Category: Amadeus (1984), Mozart - Fandom, Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao, Mozart! - Levay/Kunze
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8767432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishies/pseuds/starfishies
Summary: A random fic - starts off with Mozart's memories of his home life with his father and sister, learning keyboard and violin. Transition to his tour with his mother and his antics while he is away from his father's watchful eye.





	1. First lessons

I never wanted to practice this wretched thing, it was never my idea. What boy would want to spend hours upon hours, hunched over little wooden keys that taunt and twinkle? Most certainly not I! There were books to read, games to play and sites to see. Almost in my 8th year and I could count my friends on one hand, and that’s if you count Nannerl among them. How triste, never going outside to play with the boys from the apartments downstairs, not playing games in the park, only dear Papa for knowledge and darling Nannerl for company. I ached for the chance to meet other children, what must their lives be like? Were we so different?

Fortune would have it, today is a most glorious afternoon. Papa was merciful enough to at least let the windows open, inviting the spring air to burst in, rustling the book of keyboard techniques that lay open, staring back at me eye to eye.

“Wolfgang” he bellowed from the other room amid the screech and squawks of yet another violin pupil from town. Refocusing I quickly resumed the study at hand. Another hour or so, that should do…

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Tired Wolfgang? Simply repeat it a few more dozen times, then we shall take a rest. I could hear him silently prodding me to continue through the walls. I could practically hear his eyes narrowing in disapproval when I stopped to rest my fingers. Yes Papa….I would mutter to myself in a one sided conversation that would surely make it appear as if I was completely mad.  
“Stop hacking that tune you fiendish brute!” Nannerl hissed as she swept by me on her way to the chaise, draping herself nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow in expectation of my rebuttal.

“If Madamemoiselle can perform the piece in question to a more exacting standard than I, she is welcome to the instrument for a demonstration of her skill.” I stuck out my tongue, knowing she could easily out play my undisciplined fingers without second thought.

She scoffed, “Ha! You couldn’t afford my performance fee, and I only present on command from the Emperor himself.” I simply rolled my eyes, brat!

“Nannerl – you must leave Wolfgang to his studies. He needs no further distractions from his already overly busy mind.” Papa said flatly from the door way. He was holding his violin by its thin neck, his young male student standing just behind with his own instrument and books packed. I recognized the look in his eyes, run…RUN! I silently encouraged the boy, save yourself! 

Thinking these thoughts, I grinned – causing Papa to frown immediately, “Wolfgang! Did you hear me?” He snapped, looking back to Nannerl, “These studies, from memory – by tomorrow morning.” Nannerl slinked away to the stairs, choosing to flee lest she be assigned a similar task.

“Yes Papa.” My smile faded, and my fingers slithered back over to the keys, picking up where I left off

 

Repeat.

 

Repeat.

 

Mistake…oops. I grinned and snorted.

 

Repeat

 

That night Papa can to Nannerl and I, sitting on the edge of the bed. He often came to us before sleep, with some stories from his lessons, conversations he’d had in town or critiques of our playing that needed to be aired. Papa was a wise man, strict but kind – we loved this time with him, at day’s end when he was quiet and thoughtful.  
“Wolfgang, every minute of every day should, must, be filled with music. Practice is not a chore, it is a duty. Must I remind you each day? This is your path, your calling – this is your security”

I flopped back onto my pillow with a sigh, “Papa, I am practicing! Every day I swear it – you hear me, I know you do.” 

He glowered angrily at first, then his face softened, “You won’t be children forever my darlings, and what then?”

Nannerl and I eyed one another, what was the old coot on about now? Sentimental old goat! 

Starting to giggle we both squirmed, and Papa began to laugh blowing out the candle. “Good night my darlings.”  
In the darkness, I squirmed closer to Nannerl who squealed when she felt my cold feet against her own. “You beast!” she shoved against me, I just giggled like mad. My mind was already dancing with tomorrow’s lesson with Papa, my keyboard studies memorized? Lord! Who does this man think I am? Yawning I listened to the thump, thump, thump of my sister’s chest. What a pleasant tempo, did she choose that? Cleaver girl! We fell asleep like that, huddled against one another, tete a tete.


	2. Insomnia

My fingers cracked at the knuckles – cold. Again. Curse this season! I couldn’t warrant the cost to restart the fire at this hour. The last sparks of the night will simply have to do.

Travelling was always so different with Mama. She would leave me for hours, alone to work on my music. “Leave him!” she’d tisk our visitors, “He’s very busy, he needs not to be disturbed.” Feeling the pressure to work, I nodded silently in agreement, putting pen to paper – spinning melodies for hours on end. Occasionally, Mama would scuttle in, stroke my hair and smile.

“My darling boy – you work so hard. God will reward you surely.” I wouldn’t respond, knowing it would take many more tunes in His honour to free me of my sins. 

I would have never thought the constant pestering of Papa would be missed, however sitting in my small room with nothing but embers burning at an hour that only owls can know, I began to feel melancholy towards those tours as a boy. Tucked in, Nannerl pestering me for more of the quilt, Mama and Papa tightly wound into their covers just a few feet away. Travel from town to town, gifts of toys, clothes and wondrous foods – what more could a boy want? I was adored, my music was adored. It was sublime.

Sighing I deposited the pen into the ink and wiggled out of my bedclothes, digging to find something that wasn’t already heavy with the stench of travel. Settling on a plain waistcoat and dark trousers, I quickly ran my fingers through my hair. Wild as ever Wolfie, I whispered to myself, having caught sight of my reflection in the mirror by the wash stand. My cherub face had not last through adolescence and I was not blessed in stature. However, among his many lessons to me, Papa had taught me well that any man who could spin a tale and who could hold his own on topics of art, politics and science could capture any one, man, woman or child.

Mama was snoring heavily in the next room – the timbre of each rumble nearly rattling my ink clean off the desk. My eyes were bleary, my joints aching, I needed to get somewhere warm and quickly, before that snoring drove me mad! I would return well before Mama would rise, and I surely needed a break from this desk.

Grinning like a child I threw my overcoat on hastily and tip toed for the door, slipping out into the street, traipsing through the freshly fallen snow. I quickly turned my collar up against the wind, instantly wishing I had taken my mittens – instead settling with crossing my arms tightly around myself, digging my frozen digits into the sides of the woolen jacket.

Squinting in the snow fall as I wandered, I finally crossed the cobblestones towards my destination. I spotted the door man in the distance, stooped by a dimly light lantern, still open for business I thought to myself. I began to trudge with more haste. My fur lined boots clomping in the muck, occasionally side stepping a drunken passerby as they stumbled home wildly.  
“Good evening Herr” the doorman grunted, pushing the heavy wooden door open, exposing the dark stone stairs that descended below ground. “It’s a quiet night so far.” He mumbles and I met his eyes and nodded in silent thanks. I cautiously picked my way down the cellar stairs trying not to tumble straight down to the bottom.

“Welcome my dear. Come, come, it’s a frightful night – you must be nearly frozen!” An older Frau, dressed rather conservatively rushed out to welcome me in as soon as I passed the threshold. The warm air from the old stove hit me immediately, my face beginning to burn from the waves radiating outwards as it groaned and cracked. I quickly tussled the snow from my hair and shrugged off my heavy outer coat. She extended her arms to collect my things, “I trust you’re here for the night?”

“No, Madame. Simply a short visit – I must be back by morning with upmost discretion.” I cleared my throat, the initial chit chat always made me nervous. 

“Of course, please allow me.” She gestured me to follow suit, walking down a short hall past a serious of closed doors. “She’s very good, and quite clean.” The Frau assured me. Knocking on the door, she poked her head inside, whispering something quickly and then standing by to allow me entry.

“Simply come up to collect your coat and settle up when you’re ready.” She then squeezed my arm with startling force and whispered fiercely, “Do not pay the girls directly, understood?” with widened eyes I nodded, pulling away from her grasp, she smiled sweetly, “Enjoy.” I stood in the hall, watching her return to the front, heels clicking rhythmically as she receded.

Hearing the heavy door hinge groan, I turned back towards the darkened room – a small girl with wavy locks peaked out expectantly in my direction. For a moment, my stomach fell, she was lovely – large, dark eyes, pale complexion and soft, delicate features. “Sir?” she questioned, stepping back to open the door further, in quiet gesture to admit me.

“Good evening Frauline” I smiled, looking down to her small toes – bare on the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to devour her whole – at least not in the manner I had planned to find my own relief. How young she seemed, likely even younger than myself. Her night dress hung suggestively off her shoulders, laces loose, the fabric hanging from her small breasts - most appealing.

She must have noticed my gaze, as she began to undress. Slowly unfastening the small buttons on the neck, working her way down to her navel. She worked silently, looking up every so often for my approval, hearing nothing – she continued. Making quick work of the gown, she let the fabric fall to the floor, stepping out of the tangled fabric to expose her remarkable figure. 

She was petite, her long dark waves cascading down her back, lovely pale nipples perched attentively atop two perfectly formed breasts. She nervously placed her hands in front of her as I stood struck with an appraising gaze. “You’re doing wonderfully my darling.” I whispered, taking her hands in my own, she shivered feeling their coldness.

“Would you like to undress Herr…?” She said softly in question, “Mozart” I replied, stepping closer, pulling her against my chest. “I think you can help me with that, yes?” I grinned coyly and she nodded in comply.

Her small hands began the task of unbuttoning my waistcoat, travelling methodically down, button by button. I could feel my groin begin to stir, having her naked chest pressed against my own. Admiring the texture of the jacket in her free hand she smiled, “You must be a wealthy man, Herr Mozart” she began to peel away my linen shirt as well. I snorted a small laugh “No darling, it was a gift from a close friend. A duchesse who admires fashion as much as myself.”

“A duchesse? Oh my, how spectacular!” her eyes lit up at the idea of it, “What service did you provide her in exchange?” she continued the conversation as she lifted my shirt over my head and then beginning to unfasten my trousers. “Service?...Well, I am a musician. I afforded her a few music lessons and a sonata for harpsichord. She’s an enthusiast.” 

“A musician!” she sighed with delight and looked up at me as she knelt down, running her hands over the twitching stiffness of my erection. “Would you play something for me?” 

I chuckled, what a time for such a request. “Of course. But first you’ll have to inspire me.” I flashed my most charming grin, and she bit her bottom lip, tossing her hair over her shoulders. She pulled me free from my trousers, licking slowly from base to tip, the head already weeping and throbbing with need. I groaned loudly, allowing me head to roll back and my mouth to fall open. She held the base firmly and began to bob up and down, sucking gently, flicking her tongue over the most sensitive underside. I whimpered, holding her head to stop. If I wasn’t careful, this would all end too soon.

She looked up under hooded eyes, “More?” she wiped my evidence from her mouth. I swallowed hard and nodded. She confidently backed me onto the settee, a musty, lumpy old piece, and pulled what remained of my trousers down to my ankles. The feel of the scratchy old chair on my backside was oddly erotic. It reminded me of the creaky old sofa in the Weber house, where the girls and I had had our own scandalous adventures. 

Panting I peered down at the little fellow as he bobbed there happily, sometimes gently twitching against my belly. Tough isn’t it little one? You must be brave however, there is more in this show yet. The young girl, all shyness lost, straddled my lap, rubbing her dark forest against my own golden curls. Her chest bumped against my own, I reached forward to steady her hips, squeezing her rather firmly. “You can finish in me” she whispered breathlessly in my ear as I rocked her hips over mine, slowly, savouring her feel. “Oh god” I huffed, losing it all with that phrase. I felt myself, shooting hot into her, spasming and choking at the climax. I slumped back against the chair, head supported by the quilted back rail. She stilled on my lap, gently brushing my hair from my brow. “You’re hair is quite lovely Herr Mozart” she giggled and I sighed with exhaustion looking lazily at her as she traced patterns on my chest. We stayed in this position for some time before she slid free, wriggling back in to her night dress. 

She grabbed a quilt and came back to my side, covering me not unlike a mother to her child. “Would you like to sleep Herr Mozart?” I heard her voice say faintly as my eyes drifted open and shut with great heaviness. “No…” I slurred sleepily to her, but my body betrayed me. 

Some time later, I squinted in the darkness – only a few candles lit in the room. Only briefly startled, I quickly remembered my unfinished quartet back with Mama. “Shit” I hissed and lept up from the chair, scrambling to redress. “Leaving so soon?” hearing her voice startled me and I jumped, “Frauline! I didn’t know you were still here, my apologies – yes I must return to my work.” I fumbled with my stockings and buttons.

“You’re welcome back any time.” She grinned from her small bed, wiggling deeper under the covers. For a moment I considered leaping in beside her – she was rather delightful. Alas, work. It’s as if I could hear Papa’s pen scratching away at my next letter, “Are you working? What about commissions? Pupils?” I sighed, walking over to the girl and crouching down at her side as she lay, “Thank you – I shall ask for you by name next time” I smiled and kissed her chastely

Before the door closed behind me, I heard her call out “Sophia, Herr Mozart” and I grinned to myself. 

Settling up with the house mistress, I quickly sped back to my dreary room – slipping in before dawn, avoiding Mamas judgemental stare. Lighting a small fire, I climbed into my frigid sheets with hopes of a few hours sleep before morning’s call.


End file.
